


i don't belong here

by wasted_potential_007



Series: Aureate August 2018 [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Aureate August 2018, F/F, Falling in (what could be) love, I'm Sorry, I'm not ok, Natasha's not ok, No one is ok, Porn With Plot, Smut, i don't know what happened, i'm just so tired, no happy endings here people we die like gays, this is the beginning of the end guys, this is the most emotional i've felt all year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 04:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15598026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasted_potential_007/pseuds/wasted_potential_007
Summary: Day 6 of Aureate August 2018.Prompt: "Monachopsis- n. the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place"In which Natasha falls and loses the ability to catch herself.





	i don't belong here

**Author's Note:**

> so i decided to make this it's own fic because it's way too long (it's like 1800 words of pure angst)

**_After._ **

**_~_ **

She’s always worked better alone.

Before the Avengers, SHIELD, she _was_ alone, always working in solidarity. There were moments when the KGB would send her to work with others, but they quickly figured out that she was much more effective when clad in a black suit, disappearing into the shadows by herself.

She doesn’t know why she would ever attempt to change that.

\---

**_Before._ **

**~**

Defecting to SHIELD is something she’s been considering for a while since it’s been clear for some time that Russia could no longer serve in her interest.

She’s brought in with no extra guards or security and she appreciates it, the fact that someone believes in her enough to let her roam free. It represents who, _what_ she is to SHIELD; an asset, nothing more.

In hindsight, she should’ve remembered that fact.

However, they shove her into reprogramming, try to mold her into an _agent,_ not an asset, pushing her through SHIELD history classes and lessons on the current political climate and by the end, she’s almost who they want her to be.

She completes the missions given to her, even when she’s forced to work with a team, she walks the Helicarrier halls like every other agent, she spars in the gym with others, holding back because she knows no one can handle her full-force.

Except, there’s always that nagging feeling in the back of her mind that tells her she doesn’t belong, but she shoves it down like the proper agent she is.

\---

Maria Hill is elusive, hardened, and Natasha finds herself seeking her out because she’s everything an agent should be; professional, diplomatic, mysterious.

She catches herself looking for the tight bun, for the blue eyes, for the raised cheekbones and sharp jawline every time she walks into a room.

(looking back, this is where it started: physically.)

Hill comes knocking on her bedroom door one day and when Natasha opens the door, she’s met with an almost curious expression from the agent, her blue eyes inquisitive.

“Agent Romanoff,” Hill says, tone ever so professional. “You’ve been following me.”

“You noticed,” Natasha replies, her trademark smirk plastered on her face because she wants to see how far this can go, staring into those blue eyes. “Not many people do.”

“Are you insinuating there are other people you stalk?” Hill asks, her voice less professional, almost _teasing._

“I wouldn’t call it stalking with _them_ ,” Natasha says, inching closer to Hill, keeping eye contact.

“And what about with me?”

Her tone is curious now, Natasha notices, but the aura of professionalism and the rigidity in her posture is still there, almost as if it’s been wired into her. Hill’s face is closer to her’s now, to the point where Natasha can see the bags under her eyes, the imperfections in her face.

“Maybe a,” Natasha pauses, pretending to search for the right words just to keep Hill on her toes, her voice dropping lower, “mild infatuation.”

“Interesting,” Hill responds, her voice deep, almost husky as she leans in.

When their lips meet, she notices that Hill automatically closes her eyes and she knows how easy it would be, right now, to slam Hill into her bedroom wall and make her beg but she finds she doesn’t want to.

Instead, Natasha lets herself melt into the kiss, closing her eyes and letting Hill’s tongue slip into her mouth.

It’s the first kiss that’s ever left her breathless.

(it’s also her first mistake.)

\---

What’s between them grows as the months pass by; nights spent in Hill’s bed, days filled with brushes of fingers and accidental touches.

Natasha finds that she can fit into this role of Agent Romanoff perfectly because Agent Romanoff is dutiful, efficient, Agent Hill’s girlfriend, and it really helps that Hill is there, an example of who Agent Romanoff should be and Natasha catches herself mimicking Hill’s movements.

It could be the easiest act yet.

And as long as she doesn’t take time to listen to the voice in the back of her head, it’ll always be easy.

(she tells herself this role is no different than all the other ones she’s played, even if it’s getting harder and harder to separate the role from the person.)

\---

It’s a sunny day in what could be spring when she realizes how fucked she really is.

She’s watching Hill, _Maria,_ work in her office with the sunlight streaming in from the windows, reflecting off Maria’s cheekbones and hair and it’s _Natasha_ that thinks she’s beautiful, not Agent Romanoff.

And when Natasha delves into her feelings later as she’s staring at Maria’s bedroom ceiling, Maria asleep next to her, she realizes that she’s let herself sink far too deep; there’s a part of her that’s no longer pretending in the role of Agent Romanoff because it doesn’t need to.

But she lets herself stay in Maria’s arms because that part of her has never felt these feelings before, and to be quite honest, this is the first time she’s felt like she almost _belongs_ aboard the giant metal ship in the sky.

(there’s another mistake: not pulling herself out when she still could.)

\---

“Do you believe in happy endings?” Maria suddenly asks one day while they’re lying on the couch together, Natasha’s legs intertwined with Maria’s as the TV drones on in front of them.

There’s a moment when Natasha’s about to answer “no” but then she thinks, _really_ thinks about it.

“I want to,” Natasha replies, her voice soft, tilting her head to look at Maria, “even though life hasn’t ever given me a reason to do so.”

It’s the most honest she’s ever been with Maria, with _anyone,_ really but with the way Maria looks at her, she thinks she could be this open forever. It’s a dangerous thought because open means exposed and exposed means vulnerable, which is the one thing she’s vowed to never be.

But she reminds herself that this is supposed to be all an act; pretending to be someone she’s not in order to become what SHIELD wants her to be and the feeling that she doesn’t belong here comes rushing back in waves, drowning her.

Maria senses her discomfort and grasps her hand gently, her voice soft as she speaks. “Hey,” she squeezes Natasha’s hand, “you okay there?”

Her tone is gentle, caring, _loving,_ and Natasha realizes there’s no saving herself now.

She’s too far gone for the woman holding her hand.

\---

**_During._ **

**~**

A not-so-fun fact: she’s never said “I love you” and meant it.

But when she’s with Maria, either lying in Maria’s bed or fucking Maria on her desk (who knew Hard-ass Hill had a kink for _that_?) or in Maria’s arms, spread out on the couch, she finds herself so close to saying those three words.

And she doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that Maria never says them either. Because maybe there’s a secret part of her that _wants_ Maria to say those words, but then there’s another part that dreads ever hearing them because then she would have to say them back.

She finds herself forgetting that this is supposed to be a mask that she wears in order to fit in but she really doesn’t mind anymore, as long as she gets to spend time with Maria.

\---

Maria comes storming into Natasha’s bedroom one day covered in dust and other people’s blood, barging right past the closed door and Natasha’s about to give her a snarky one-liner about knocking before she sees the wild look in Maria’s eyes, and the pure _hunger_ in them makes her go weak in the knees.

They clash together, their lips and teeth gnawing at each other’s before Maria moves her mouth down Natasha’s neck, biting and sucking along the way, leaving bruises and bite marks in her wake.

“Fuck me,” Natasha mutters into Maria’s ear before leaning her head back to give more access to Maria’s mouth.

(normally, she wouldn’t surrender control like this but she senses that this is what Maria _needs,_ so she does it regardless.)

And it’s the right thing to say because Maria _growls_ at the words, her voice deep as she hoists Natasha’s legs up, grabbing onto her ass before ramming Natasha’s back against the wall, their lips locked with one another’s. Natasha tightens her grip on Maria’s neck as she feels Maria’s hand slide into her pants and it’s all that she can do to not cry out in pleasure as those fingers slide into her, pistoning in and out.

After she comes, Maria gently lowers Natasha onto her bed before crashing down beside her, both of them still breathless.

“You okay?” Maria asks, her voice still somewhat caring. “That was… rougher.”

Natasha slowly nods because it’s what Agent Romanoff would do and it _is_ true; she _is_ okay and she _did_ enjoy it, but she knows that this was more for Maria then it was for herself.

It’ll be her downfall eventually but for now, she doesn’t mind.

\---

This time, when Maria shows up at her bedroom door, she knocks.

“Hey,” Natasha says, stepping aside to allow Maria in but she stays at the doorway, her expression unreadable and her posture immaculate.

“I got promoted,” Maria says suddenly and Natasha’s about to smile until she realizes that Hill’s eyes are filled with what could be sorrow or regret, “to Assistant Director.”

“Congratulations,” Natasha replies, still letting out a small smirk but there’s a feeling of dread welling up in her chest and she can feel the other shoe about to drop, “you don’t seem all too happy about it though.”

“My promotion means that we can’t do _this,_ ” Maria gestures to the two of them, “anymore.”

There’s an awkward silence between the two of them as Natasha processes the words and Hill stands there and Natasha’s not sure why Maria, _Hill,_ is still at her doorway.

“I’m sorry,” Hill says, the professionalism in her tone underlaid with what Natasha thinks is regret. “I hate for it to end this way.”

“Me too,” Natasha finally says but she can’t look up to meet those blue eyes one last time.

Hill eventually leaves but Natasha’s still standing at her bedroom door when she does and it feels accurate, for some reason.

\---

**_Epilogue._ **

**~**

Agent Romanoff hands in her resignation letter to Assistant Director Hill and Hill doesn’t hide the surprise in her eyes when she sees it. Natasha walks quickly out of the room before she does anything she’ll regret.

(the truth is, she regrets so much already because with Maria gone, Agent Romanoff doesn’t belong anymore and all Natasha’s left with is a gnawing feeling that she’s out of place.

she doesn’t know why she thought this could work, only that the feeling of uneasiness was easier to ignore when she was with Maria but there’s no Maria anymore.)

When she walks off the Helicarrier one last time, she feels heartbroken, shattered, unmade but she’s alone again.

And finally, she feels relief.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not ok.  
> please don't hate me.


End file.
